It Really Takes A Hero

Love Of Truth, Ordinary Common Truth Recognizable To Everyone, Is The Ruling Passion Of The Novel.

In Moments Of Despair, We Look On Ourselves Lead-enly As Objects; We See Ourselves, Our Lives, As Someone Else Might See Them And May Even Be Driven To Kill Ourselves If The Separation, The "knowledge," Seems Sufficiently Final.

The Perennial Wonder Of Venice Is To Peer At Herself In Her Canals And Find That She Exists-incredible As It Seems. It Is The Same Reassurance That A Looking-glass Offers Us: The Guarantee That We Are Real.

In Violence, We Forget Who We Are

Calling Someone A Monster Does Not Make Him More Guilty; It Makes Him Less So By Classing Him With Beasts And Devils.